


Firewood

by KestrelGirl



Category: Guild Wars 2 (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Burns, Dark, Diary/Journal, Fire Magic, Gen, Gender Dysphoria, Illustrations, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:02:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23168197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KestrelGirl/pseuds/KestrelGirl
Summary: Sometimes, even the Pale Tree makes mistakes. For one volatile and distraught sylvari, the results proved catastrophic.A brief heads-up - I've chosen not to use archive warnings because this story could be upsetting to people who have dealt with the emotions I try to capture in it. It has extremely dark themes regarding gender dysphoria and self-harm, and illustrations of the same. I drew on the experiences of some of my friends, and I apologize if it hits too close to home as a result.Basically, reader discretion is advised. Disclaimer that I'm a cis person writing a trans experience; I talked to trans and nb friends about this but please let me know if something's wrong.
Kudos: 4





	Firewood

**Day One**

My name is… it doesn’t matter. For it is wrong, and I would lie to no one. I don’t know why, but I feel like… perhaps I should not be me. The mender taking care of me said I should start to write, using the skills I learned in the Dream to perhaps try to explain my feelings better. So here I am, writing in this little journal.

I feel this deep anger, and sadness. Perhaps… disgust. I can’t look at myself without having these emotions wash over me. Or perhaps that is an unfitting choice of words, because they burn within me instead. I didn’t feel these in the Dream. I don’t know why I must feel them now.

* * *

**Day Two**

I spent my day learning about the world around me from a mentor of my cycle. They say it is dangerous out there, but so long as I don’t stray beyond the nearby village of Astorea, I should be safe. 

That feeling of disgust is still tearing at me. I tried to harden myself to my reflection earlier, and I thought I saw flames creep across my palms. Writing hurts a little, from the burns. Maybe I’ll go talk to Mother, and seek her insight. For now, I must sleep.

* * *

**Day Three**

I did not sleep peacefully. I dreamt of an inferno roaring toward me; I woke up in tears and ran to a mender’s hut. Strangely enough, I am in a bit of pain all over. The mender said I’ve burnt myself in a few places. Was there some truth…? I don’t want to think about it. He also told me I wasn’t supposed to be having nightmares so soon, and that something must be wrong.

After I recovered from my exhaustion, I went to speak to our Blessed Source. 

\---

_ “What brings you here so soon, sapling? Is something troubling you?” _

_ “Yes. I don’t know what it is. I feel… wrong.” _

_ “I felt your nightmare, and your hatred of your name. So soon… I’m sorry. But I also feel your fire. There is power within you. You may find what you seek by channeling it.” _

_ “But… I sense something wrong with my body. I don’t know what it is, but maybe you understand how I feel.” _

_ “I have seen saplings like this before, so deeply dissatisfied with their being. Some take action; others merely choose their own names and live their own lives. I only ask that you not do something reckless. You will find who you are in time.” _

\---

I can’t bear this for so long. Maybe I will try to learn to fight instead, and do something useful instead of despairing so much.

* * *

**Day Seven**

For the last few days, I’ve been training with an elementalist. Mother said I should try to channel my fire, and I’ve tried hard enough that it’s kept me too exhausted to write until now. Perhaps it’s kept the anger at bay, but it’s replaced that anger with the pain of the burns I’ve given myself. I’m only just starting to get used to it.

I’ve realized something new. Though my mentor knows to only refer to me as “sapling,” for lack of a name, every time she treats me as a woman like herself, that awful feeling comes back. I haven’t worked up the courage to tell her how I feel yet, or what the solution may be.

* * *

**Day Eleven**

Mother told me not to do anything reckless, but I fear I’ve already disobeyed her advice. Late last night, I wondered what might happen if I summoned just a little bit of fire, and used the lessons I’ve learned to scorch the parts of my body I don’t like. And _thorns…_ it hurt. It took so much effort to not cry out. I could see sap weeping from my sides for a bit, but my mentor told me that fire could seal a wound, so… I did that. I guess it worked. 

My mentor noticed. I was so worried she’d be angry, but somehow she wasn’t. 

\---

_“Sapling, you burned yourself in the night… Another nightmare? Are you okay?”_

_“Well… I…”_

_“Oh. Oh, no.”_

_“What is it?”_

_“I… I think I know what happened, though this is the first time I’ve seen this in one of my students. You never told anyone your name. Some saplings come out nameless, but I think I’d know by now if you were one of these. You simply… didn’t like yours?”_

_“Yes. What does it mean, to have a name I hate?”_

_“It means Mother made… a little mistake, perhaps. It happens, maybe more often than it used to. Some learn to live with it; others choose a new name; still others choose to transition physically. I promise, it is not your fault.”_

_“A mistake…?”_

_“I’ve seen the way you look at yourself. I can’t imagine how it must feel. But please, for your sake, don’t do that again. Let yourself grow into who you were meant to be. Now, do you want me to refer to you as a man, or perhaps one in between for now?”_

_“I don’t know yet. But… not whatever I am now.”_

\---

Yet I still wonder: why do I have to wait?

* * *

**Day Nineteen**

I remind myself every day that I must keep going. I cannot remain the _loathsome_ way I am - damn the pain.

I’ve… ~~scorched~~ ~~burnt away~~ ...worked on a little bit of myself at a time, night by night, mostly on my hips and whatever’s supposed to be on my chest. I think it’s working. I hope it’s working. It’s so much faster than growth, at least.

I’ve stopped seeing my mentor. I’ve learned what I need to.

* * *

**Day Twenty-Two**

Making progress. More burns. More frequent nightmares. I can’t let them get to me. I have to keep at it.

* * *

**Day Twenty-Five**

I’m so close. I can feel it.

* * *

**Day Thirty-Four**

_(The handwriting in this entry is more deliberate, perhaps a bit spidery.)_

I write this from a hospital bed.

Six days ago, I tried to finish transforming myself, finish ridding myself of all I hated. The angrier I became, the more the flames threatened the rest of me. Yet I persevered.

Then something snapped, and fire enveloped me. I remember a fleeting moment of ecstasy, and then only searing pain.

I realized too late what the nightmares were supposed to tell me, and what everyone had meant by “reckless.” For just a moment, I despaired. Then I collapsed, exhausted. I don’t remember anything after that.

The menders found me, they say, after following the smell of smoke. They recall that I was glowing like an ember, and that I’m lucky to be alive.

I drifted in and out of consciousness for a while. I remember barely being able to see or hear. When I finally awoke, two days ago, my hearing was still murky. Apparently my ears had scarred over. It was hard to hear my voice, but it seemed raspier.

That didn’t prepare me to survey the rest of the damage.

Many of the things I hated are gone, yes, but… so is so much more. I’m told it will take me weeks to recover, to shed my charred bark so that maybe I can heal. The bark peeled from one side of my face, leaving a tender patch around that eye. Most of my body is still bandaged, but the menders said - with gestures - that I could write today. For now, every part of me is either stinging and raw, or numb.

* * *

**Day Seventy-One**

I’ve been recovering for a long time. It’s been a slow, frustrating process, but most of me has healed enough that the menders finally cleared me to train and learn control over my magic. Some things, however… I’ll have to get used to them. They say I’ve been flaring up again, at night. I can’t hear much anymore. More scars.

I’ve been losing faith lately. The menders are good people, and they try their best, but I feel I can’t trust the Dream anymore. After all, it was Mother who made me this way, with the only true solution to wait and see, trapped in a body I hated. 

* * *

**Day Ninety-Six**

I’m finally well enough to leave. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and I just don’t think I can stay in the Grove any longer. The Dream is simply suffocating. I managed to communicate in writing with someone at the Vigil posting in the Upper Commons, and they said they’d be able to take me in, though it may take a while before I’m able to see action.

I’ll leave this journal behind. Maybe someone else will find it, and learn from me. But to me, it’s merely a reminder of things I shouldn’t have done.

But the past is the past.

Signed, 

Áedh


End file.
